An email to my boyfriend:

that spawned from me trying to improve my mood by perusing Pintrest.

Subject: “I swear I’m not totally obsessed…

Art Deco Diamond Engagement Ring

don’t think i am one of those girls who just wants to get married and is obsessed with it and dropping hints… that is not it at all! but i found this on pintrest and it is beautiful and i love it, so i wanted to share it. just like a picture of a puppy that is up for adoption… yes i want another puppy in the future, but not now, but you should at least have an idea of what kind of puppy i would want.. i’m just saying.

i like antique puppies…
love you “
I know what you are all thinking:  He is a lucky man
And success, my mood improved!

So this was fun…

I should just know not to keep beverages on my desk, or next to me at the table, or anywhere that is within my reach in fact.

I am a frequent spiller.  Last weekend alone I spilled Friday night at a friend’s house, sending a tsunami across the table into our game of “Settlers of Catan”, the next night I soaked my boyfriend’s sport coat in a martini, the night after that a different civilization of Settlers was attacked by a rogue wave of my water.

Tales of me spilling as a child are often regaled at family gathers; stories like my mom being covered chest to knees in chocolate milk, ruining her all white outfit, then me repeating the spill the next night as she was trying to describe to someone how it had happened the night before.  Or the time in Disney World when Chip and Dale came up to our table at a character breakfast and I, in my excitement, spilled an entire pitcher of orange juice on them.  I am still not sure whether that dry-cleaning bill showed up on our hotel tab or not.

If you ever see me drinking a cosmopolitan, don’t sit next to me, or across from me, or at my table, because I score in the 99th percentile of spilling the second one.

New car? Sure!  Let’s get some coffee!  Nothing shatters new car smell like a latte dumped in the cup holders.  The best part?…once it was all cleaned up, I went to pick the cup up again and spilled it once more.  I laughed, my passenger was less than thrilled.

I don’t characterize myself as careless, just very excited and animated, not to mention the fact that I’m usually flying around at 100mph, which just elicits accidents.  And I have always said that my parents didn’t name me Grace for a reason.

So here is my morning… I think I am fucked til at least October.

Sorry desk calendar.